Poker Face
by Hairibo
Summary: A deck of cards, rightfully played out on a table, your table, your life. Chips set out, and players ready. It begins at birth, the start of a long game of which you will never leave. By Rock
1. Prologue: The Game

Authors Note: Okay, I don't know how well this will go over, but this idea came to me the other day out of the clear blue sky (and yes it was clear and blue that day.). So, I finally decided to write it, and upon letting choice persons, who know who they be, read it, I was pushed to put it up and make it into a story. So I hope you all like it. This first part is an extended metaphor, not too painful if I say so myself. Its something you should keep an eye for in the rest of the story though. I will incorporate it. Have fun!

B DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters that you see in I The Outsiders /I . My appreciation to SE Hinton who was genius enough to come up with the book and the characters we all know. All things referring to the book and characters are courtesy of SE Hintona and I will never claim to be genius enough to come up with that. Good enough? I own nothing be the metaphor idea and anything else that is mine... /B 

A deck of cards, rightfully played out on a table, your table, your life. Chips set out, and players ready. It begins at birth, the start of a long game of which you will never leave. The primary players filter in and out of the game; your parents, friends, family, enemies, and every other obscure person that will affect your pathetic life. They all get a hand, and play it. Sometimes it ends good, sometimes it doesn't. Life is a game of poker.

This was something I thought about a lot now; the game of life. A struggle any way you look at it, and one everyone plays. Most people I knew had been dealt a nice set of cards in the beginning, and steadily made it up the chain. They were those I referred to as socs. Always having money and all. Then there were us greasers, having a slightly worse hand in the beginning. Most of us only went down at the wrath of the socs, losing our chips in desperation. Every once in a while we would catch a break and get a fairly good hand, making the best of it. But the next one always left us in the dumps again. It was a rollercoaster, one we hated, and over the last year I had learned to hate it even more than I knew was possible.

Now I made it through the game with a poker face, a bluff. That's the only way to win, ya know? I had been dealt one too many bad hands, and now I knew how to bluff too well. First bad hand was the end of my parents sitting at the table with me. They had to get up and leave, the security escorting them away for a reason no one, not even they, knew. Then a few friends left, out of money and will, just stood up and walked away. It was like they didn't have a choice in the matter. Well, not only did they get bad hands, I did too. The only ones winning were the socs, my enemies.

I even used my bluff on my brothers. They had no idea how it was I was getting A's and even excelling in track through all this shit happening. But what they didn't know was that it was all an integral part in the façade I liked to refer to as my poker face. See, if I acted normal, there was no reason to worry, I could win the hand if I bluffed long enough. If I acted as if everything was great and I had a good hand, maybe I could win, maybe I could even talk myself into it. That was the theory at least.


	2. Self Denial

A/N: Okay, well this is a shorter chapter than most I do, but I don't know what the trend for this story will be on that. One thing that is important to know is that Rinna/Cory, is Darry's girlfriend. Her real name is Corinne, but Darry calls her Rinna, and everyone else calls her Cory. Other thing is that this might be confusing to all of you. Just hang tight, it will all be explained as time goes on. And if you think Pony is over reacting, think again. He is depressed. People that are depressed do that, to us it is over reaction, to them…its how they feel. So I think that covers it. Hope you enjoy

-

I walked in from the cold winter air, our house refusing to acknowledge my existence. Then again, it was shelter even as much as I might hate it. It wasn't much warmer than the biting air, but at least the wind didn't hit my bones. Darry liked to keep the bills down, so when no one was home we turned the heat off, and at night it was switched off too. Like the house went dead with the sun.

It was silent in there, the disastrous mess still strewn all over the front room from the chaos of the morning routine, one we have never perfected since mom left. I wished I could love that house, like everyone else did. They called it home, and embraced it, thinking only good memories. But the house only brought me pain. I wanted my parents back, and my friends. More than ever, it all killed me. I lived in fear of loving something, for I might lose it. I couldn't be happy anymore. My brothers were there, sure, but how did I know they wouldn't leave me too? I didn't.

Slowly, I made my way to my room, having finally moved away from Soda's room of comfort. It wasn't that I had stopped having nightmares, they were more frequent than ever on the contrary. It was the simple fact that I couldn't depend on Soda to make me feel better anymore. It made me feel worse when he pitied me, it was my fault all this had happened. So why should I ask him to feel pity? I couldn't, it was hypocritical, one more thing I couldn't handle. So I asked to leave, and now I spent my nights hardly sleeping, afraid of letting the darkness overtake me.

My room wasn't much better than the rest of the house. It was messy, smelled of dirty laundry, and looked like the inhabitant had left years before, having neglected to clean it. Well, in essence I had. I didn't really care what the room was like. Darry had been bothering me to clean it for weeks, but the only time it came anywhere near clean was when he swept through it for my clothes to wash. I knew it was making him mad, and maybe I would clean it soon, just to get him off my back, keep up my happy face. But my energy was gone. I almost didn't care if they knew how unhappy I was now. Deep down I was telling myself it would be better if they knew and could help. But on the surface it was clear that that would only make things worse. Darry and Soda would never understand. Darry was too tough and Soda was too happy all the time. They didn't know what unhappiness was.

I plopped down on my bed thinking of how nice a nap would be, but knowing that I needed to get my homework done. I pulled out my books. Math, the most worthless exercise the school system could come up with for us. An English book to read, a most intellectual fiction of nothingness. Science of Biology papers, the best thing humanity could come up with for the meaning of life, a true lie. And last, but not least painful and pathetic, was Spanish, a required elective of language, and one that I hated mostly in part to the fact that I ruin enough lives in the English speaking world to want to impose on the Spanish speaking too.

Starting in on math first, I drudged through it thinking that dinner should be put on soon. But I ignored the thought, Darry could make it for once. I would rather get lost in the pointless math than cook any day. At the very least, it was hard to think and feel sorry for yourself while working on a pointless math problem, where as, cooking was a trap of flowing thoughts. That was mostly why I avoided things such as cleaning and cooking, I didn't even watch sunsets anymore. All of those required my mind to occupy itself, which was a disastrous trend. So I engulfed my world with books, school work, running, and whatever else required my mind to be busy on something worth while, or rather, something other than me.

I soon lost myself again, only to be interrupted by the door being flung open and slammed shut.

"Hey! Anyone home?" It was Soda. Gotta love him.

"In here." I told him, without yelling that time.

He stuck his head in, "How's it goin?"

"Uh…good. Just homework."

"What's for dinner?"

"I dunno. I was supposed to make something but…" I trailed off. It had to be obvious that I didn't care.

He shrugged, "Okay. Well…I guess I'll get started on it after I get out of the shower." Then he left. It was only customary for him, being a mechanic, to take a shower as soon as he got home.

Darry walked in a while later. I didn't get up, just kept at my more than pointless homework. At the time, its sole purpose was to keep me from having to talk to anyone. Soda was in the kitchen banging pans though, so it was harder than usual to concentrate.

"Hey, I'm home!" Darry called out. He always did. It was like his presence was all that mattered or something. He was wrong.

"Welcome back." Soda joked from the kitchen. Lucky for me, Darry headed there before my room. I expected he would come in and lecture me straight away. I was grateful for the time he was giving me.

But the conversation I heard once the pots stopped banging was more than I had bargained for.

"Why?"

"Dunno. Just said no."

It went silent a minute. There was some shuffling around, and a sigh, but not much more that I could hear. I wondered what it was they were talking about, exactly.

"So how was work?"

"Stressful as usual. Rinna came by at lunch, brought me a home cooked meal. So that was good at least."

"Yeah. How are things with her? You haven't been out in a while, have you?"

"Nah, she's been busy, and I'm a little worried about Pone, so…she comes over to lunch a lot."

"Yeah. You getting serious yet? I mean, it's been a few months and all."

"We've talked."

"About?"

Darry paused, "Things."

"So when are you going to ask her then?" Soda pushed teasingly.

"Mmmnnn…haven't decided yet. I want her to come over here some more…its just that with Pony the way he is …"

"You aren't sure that would be good. I know what you mean."

It went silent again, but only a few moments passed before Soda spoke up again.

"I'm really worried, Dar. He's not the same. I swear he doesn't have friends and he's started acting different. I knew it would turn out this way, I should have known it was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, I know. I'm worried too. But, we can't do anything about it. I mean, I really wish I could, but I don't know what to do. I can't force kids to be his friend, and of course they don't want to be with him the way he is. I can't make him be happy. I mean, can you really blame him? His best friend died, he has no parents, and everything is in shambles. What do I do?"

His words stabbed me deep. Yeah, everything was in shambles. Johnny was gone, so was Dal. The gang was hurting, no matter what act of happy faces they put on; for me or themselves. I wanted to cry, and tears welled up in my eyes, but I pushed them down. Poker Face, I kept telling myself. It wasn't just for my brothers, it was for me, for Johnny.

"Maybe we should do more family things. Even if Cory is there…I mean, she has to deal with him too, if you plan to marry her." Soda cut into my thoughts.

"Yeah…I just don't know how he will take it."

I wanted to lash out about then. He wasn't sure if I would take it well? I hated that girl. She was too demanding and annoying for me. I couldn't live with her. I would go somewhere else if he married her. She would just come in here and think she owned the house.

"Well...hey, what if we start with some parties first. I can go to 'em, I know all the kids and all. There's one tomorrow night. So, start with that, and then bring Cory into the picture."

"Only if you go with him and make sure he don't get drunk or anything. I think that might be good. Make some friends that way."

That was the end of my rope. He thought a party would do me good? God! No way in hell was I going to a party! The people there would just ridicule me. I was now known as that kid that killed the soc, or the run away, or dirty greaser by the socs. A party would only hurt my rep more.

I left my room, and stormed into the kitchen.

"Stop talking about me!" I screamed. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't even tell them how I felt, why, or where it got started. All I knew, all I cared was that it was the way it was.

"Whoa. Buddy…" Soda searched my face.

"Don't do that! I'm sick of this! You always talking about me! Trying to set up fucking plans for me. I don't want more friends!" I burst into tears, but didn't stick around for a hug. I ran out the door. Running on automatic usually did me some good. It felt good anyhow. But I wouldn't go to that party. No way in hell. The thought engulfed me, and I ran and ran, not knowing where I might be headed. But I knew one thing. My poker face was all but gone.

-

Now for Review Responses:

Sandra Athrenael: Wow, thanks. Yeah, I decided to continue. It took me long enough, I know. But I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last.

BoboTheSemiDeadCat: Not soon, but finally updated. I sure hope you like how it did develop. More to come another time!

Keira: Thanks. I enjoyed writing it. And I think that Mrs. Paul finally appreciated my potential, yeah? Anyway, hope you enjoy this one….if you haven't already read it…I dunno. Well, see ya later.

Taurus: LOL. Thanks…Im great at dark stuff, if you cant tell… well, this is the first time I have ever tried this with Pony too…so we'll see if I can pull it off well. Lol. See ya round!

Tensleep: Im so glad that you like it. I had a lot of fun with that one. Inspiration is a great thing when it comes to me. Well, talk to ya later!

animalsare4life: Thanks a ton! I hope you enjoy the update.

Malara: Thanks, this was my first extended metaphor t succeed, so im excited that you liked it and it caught your attention. Hope you like the rest of what's coming.

Oblivious Misconception: Wow, thanks. I had a lot of fun with this, and I'm so happy you liked it. I hope that you enjoy the rest as much as the first! Thanks for all your support.


	3. Fever

Authors WARNING: Okay, this chapter gets a little desperate and gruesome. Some of you may not enjoy this. Im sorry…but this is the way that it goes…and im going for reality here which most of this in my view is. So if you hate self torture, don't read this… Other than that I don't think that there is much to say. So happy reading!

Ponys POV

The fever within me did not dissipate. I ran harder, faster, longer; but no relief came to my rescue. Heaving for the breath my body so desperately begged, I gave up under a circle of the only light around. Staying here was dangerous I knew…but danger wasn't something I cared about any longer. Let them kill me, society did it every day anyway.

Slumping down on the curb, and refusing to take the lung full I needed, I knew the rage had to escape. Never had it taken so long in the past. Never had I felt so unrelieved after a long run. I bit my gums, slammed a fist to the pavement, even ran a stick along my leg, drawing blood. But none of it did any good. Would anything?

I pulled out the black blade from my pocket. It was Two-Bit Matthews prize…but gave it to me just a while back. He told me that he didn't need it anymore. I thought it had something to do with the fact that it reminded us all of Dally and Johnny, but I never pushed it to find out.

Now it was my treasure to keep. I saw Johnny in the reflection that shown under the light; a sad boy, torn, and poor sat staring at it, wondering how he would make it through the night, the next day, his life. That was Johnny…it wasn't me. But I knew it was. The boy I saw was a stranger inside…he wasn't Johnny's best friend or Johnny…Dally or Steve, not anyone. He was a stranger poking from the evil within.

The first month I had that blade, I had hidden it far from site. I didn't want to remember or think. But soon it had become my token. I got it out when I needed to talk to them, when I felt bad, when I felt good. Soon I couldn't leave it home, for it was the only thing that still had Dally, Johnny, and good things with it.

Now I clung to it, wishing this simple object of a blade could suck the pain from inside my sick soul and make everything somehow better. I knew it couldn't…it could only draw blood. Then again…that could work. It wasn't as if I hadn't considered it before…

I closed the blade, flipped it out, squeezed the handle, closed it, and flipped it out. It was amazing how it shown in the light. Like the lost reflection of something unknown, it was never clear, but it never left. I did that for a few minutes, staring at it as it moved in the light, in, out, in…

Suddenly I hated it. I hated the memory it brought and all the feelings stirred up in me came out suddenly, like bulls released into the streets of Pamplona, Spain for the San Fermin festival (running of the bulls). It wasn't even seconds before I found myself pounding the blade in my hand into the hard pavement, as if that might help. Multiple time, I slipped and the blade cut deep into my right hand. The more I did it the more blood seeped from my hand, but I didn't care. If anything, the pain felt welcome, at least the pain inside was seeping with the pain outside and meshing into a world I didn't know existed.

The scraping on the pavement didn't stop anytime soon, either. It kept going, getting louder as the rage took over all feeling. A numbness of necessity emerged and I wondered what the hell I was doing and why it helped. But the shine slicing the air and the scraping mixed with blood healed my soul in an odd way. The stitches weren't masterful like a doctor's, but they were enough.

When the trance left me, and the mirages in my eyes fled, I found tears rolling down my cheeks freely. Each tear held a part of me, some of them things I didn't want to let go, but many were gladly excreted. I laid on the cold cement, everything void of feeling; inside out, I was a block of ice, sweating tears from my eyes.

The tears dried up soon after that, and feeling came back with cold pain. Everything was stiff as I rolled to my back and found flakes floating from the heavens. In the light it almost looked peaceful, until I realized that mid-air collisions were happening, and caos was more prominent than peace. I sighed, not noticing till then, that my jaw could not be stilled, and my body was shaking with the cold. No wonder it hurt to move…

Dragging myself to my feet, I wished I was a little closer to home. Home was sure to be hell tonight…but it was at least warm and fiery, not frozen over. My unsteady legs were hard to move, but I did, trudging along. I was too tired and frozen to run, and my arm throbbed.

A clink on the sidewalk made me stop, looking back I saw a bloody knife sitting there. For a moment it scared me, I didn't know how it got there, but then I realized I had dropped it. It was Two-Bits blade. I went back and picked it up in my good hand, seeing the blood on it. I wiped it off on my worn down jeans, closed it silently, and then dropped it down my shoe. There was nothing left in that switch now…I wondered if Johnny and Dally left?

I moved on, trying to go faster. It seemed to get colder and colder as I went, and everything hurt like it would freeze off and fall to the ground without my permission.

Still, I yearned for home and tried to walk faster even as my head started to dislocate from me and the distance to the ground got larger.

Darry's POV

Pony had been gone for at least a half hour by now, and I was scared. I thought he would come back faster…that he was upset and would get over it. He usually did. But he hadn't come back.

The steering wheel was cold under my hands, my heart raced behind my rib cage, the engine droaned under the hood, but all I could think was...where the hell is he?

Through the heavily falling snow, almost a blizzard of an unexpected storm, it was hard to see anything, let alone a kid who was…well, who knew where? But a shadow was emerging up ahead, near the roadside. The shape was of a lean man…slumped as he walked. I didn't know if it was Pony, but there was no way I was going to pass a man in this snowfall anyway.

I pulled the truck slowly over to the curb. Putting on the brake and making sure it wouldn't slide when I got out. The shadow was still approaching, slowly, but not any slower or faster than he seemed to be moving before. A long shadow was cast in the snow when I stepped through the headlights towards the shadow.

Watching, and waiting I examined the shadow for signs of my brother. A few steps further and I knew it was him. The way his hair fell in his face, the shape of his body, the way he walked when he was tired and unhappy. It was all Ponyboy.

"Ponyboy?" I yelled.

He looked up slowly, and his reaction was enough for me.

"Oh my god! You aren't wearing a coat. Get in the truck!" I knew he had to be freezing. I was furious at him. It boggled my mind that he could still forget to take a coat with him, even after everything. Stupid kid, I sighed.

Even then he didn't speed up, just looked back to the ground and shuffled on, almost like he didn't know I existed, or at least didnt care. That made my temper flare darker red. I stepped up to him in three long strides and grabbed his hand. I yanked him closer to the truck, and Pony let out a shriek. By then I felt a droplet of something sliding down my hand. I froze, what the hell?

"Pony…?" I couldn't keep the worry from my voice that time, "What…" I pulled his hand into the light gently and then saw the blood. Everywhere, it was frozen to his arm, dripping from his hand, dried on his shirt, streaked down his jeans, puddled on his shoe's and getting all over me.

I heaved a deep breath, pulling Pony with me to my side of the truck. With how much blood I saw, and how out of it he seemed, I wasn't about to wait for his reaction on this one. No more questions, just action.

Swinging the door open, I pushed Pony up into the truck and then past the gear shift to his side of the truck. He grunted a little, but felt more like a rag doll than a kid who cared what was going on. Once he was in, I jumped in and slammed the door. I was tempted to go to the hospital then, but thought to look at his hand first. Feeling behind the seat, I finally found our heavy duty flashlight, kept in the truck more for mechanical difficulties than injuries, but it worked the same; light.

I grabbed onto the long, thick cold metal and brought out the shiner of light. With the click of the button, a gruesome sight met me. Pony's hand was slit open all along his palm in more than one place. He didn't seem to care though, just looked at it complacently. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was still bleeding profusely from his deep wounds, and I wondered how he didn't care.

I dropped his hand, wiping mine on my pants and started up t he engine, "What the hell happened?" I asked, more impatiently than I wanted.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shrug the slightest bit, or so I thought, but he gave no explanation whatsoever. That kid…wild thoughts ran through my head jumping frantically to pit stops till I couldn't handle the thought and moved on. What had happened?

"Answer me, Ponyboy Michael Curtis." I let out in a low warning tone.

He mumbled something I couldn't hear over the engine of our 1958 Chevy Apache truck. I decided to not push him. For all I knew he was in shock. I didn't know how long he had been outside, but he sure was bleeding like crazy, and his hands were ice cold.

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel nervously, I sped up as much as I dared in the storm. I still felt it wasn't fast enough, but we didn't need to crash the truck to top off the night.

Soon we were nearing the house. I pulled into the driveway and honked a few times, knowing Soda would look to see if it was me. Sure enough, he was running out in seconds. I jumped from the seat and let him past.

"Pony?" He was curious but saw the blood in an instant, "Wha? My God…Pony, what happened?"

Pony sat gazing out the window seemingly entranced by the snow. Soda shook him as I pulled out, but he refused to move.

"Darry?" Soda asked.

"I dunno what happened, little buddy. Just found him walking home. He's freezing, try and warm him up with your body heat."

Soda did as I asked, rubbing Pony's arms as much as he could from the middle of the seat. "Darry…"he leaned towards me as I plowed trough the snow. "What if he…" His voice got lower, like he didn't want Pony to hear, "Does he have a switch on him?"

The idea hit me hard, sure it had crossed my mind, but I hadn't really thought about it. Of course he had a blade. Pony never went anywhere without one, and Two-Bit had given him the black handled one not a month ago.

"Check his shoes, Soda. The last thing we need is social workers get after us about that too."

Soda nodded and bent down. When he sat back up he was staring at the bloody black handled switch. I swallowed hard and reconsidered going to the hospital. I pushed it out of my mind though. My brother needed help, and he was going to get it if I had anything to do with it. Even if he got separated from us, maybe he wouldn't hurt himself anymore.

Sorry, a little cliffy there…but I have plans for next chapter in mind, and I'm back in a writing phase as long as I have time…so hopefully you wont have to wait too long. No promises though.

On to Review Responses:

Tensleep: Well yeah…I would hope I as right. LOL, j/k. LOL, yeah emotion was the point and I know it kinda does dound like Skye…now you know why they made sense as twins! Lol. Well, I hope you like this one…if you haven't already read it. Hmm..anyway. Hope you are having a good night!

Taurus: LOL, yeah, it was a one shot…but I decided to keep going. Inspiration, what can I say? Yeah…Pony got kinda worked up. And this is definitely more angst for ya! See ya round!

Keira: Well, im glad you were so happy. You get some more so you cant come kill me yet…wink Thanks for "forcing" me to do it. See ya!

MyHubbyIsOB: Thank you. I have had some fun with it. I hope you continue to enjoy it. Thanks for your review!

ShyXshortieXbabe: WOW. That was a good review! It made me feel soooo good! Thanks! Im very happy that you enjoy this story, I hope that I continue to live up to that… Thanks!

The King: LOL, thought you might like that one…when you got around to reading it…Im happy to report that I know you will like this one too…I think or at least hope. Well…nice talking to ya. Thanks for reading! See ya Stud! Have a good day or night or whatever…

NittanyLizard: Wow…I have to say that that was a wonderful review to get. I wanted to write this story so that people could understand what depression really is. Im so happy its accurate, I hope it is considering its based on my four years of depression. Well, thanks for reviewing. And I want you to know that ive heard from wonder sources that you are a great author and when I find the time I plan on reading your stuff….just give me time. Thanks a ton! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much.


	4. Time Tells

A/N: This is not the most exciting chapter, but it is needed. Definitely not my favorite, but that's the breaks.

Dediction: This goes out to Tensleep – and she knows why! Have a great day Tens!

Darry's POV

I slammed the alarm off my bed stand and groaned deeply at the thought of getting up after only four hours of sleep. I was planning on staying home with Pony that day considering how drugged up they had him, but only the boss could determine such things.

I dragged my tired body out of bed and splashed some cold water on my face for temporary energy. Then I thought about the night before. Sure enough it had been self inflicted, and the doctors figured it out. They didn't, however get after us, they just fixed up Pony as best the could for the time being and set up some visits with a psychologist. They gave me some tips for the mean time, as the visit wasn't until the next day when he wouldn't be too drugged up. Just things like not pushing him and trying to talk things out. Things that any knowing human would think of, but not me.

Still, things were bleak in that house. The night before had been my worst nightmare since my parent's death. And things weren't going to work out all fancy either, they never did. The doctors said Pony's hand was really messed up. They did tons of stitches, and whatever else it is they do for things like that, but the doctor said that if it didn't heal right, and even if it did, he might have to have a surgery or two. No matter, the bills would be pounding on our door all too soon.

I sighed and leaned down to open the brown textile curtains we had had since as long as I could remember. What I saw when after the blinding brightness had scarred my eyes told me I had not to worry about taking a day off, we wouldn't be able to work anyhow. I was glad for that.

"What're you doin'p?" the slurred voice startled me at first, but then it registered to be Soda.

"Gotta call the boss and make sure he aint insane. You?" I looked behind me to see Soda stretching and then rubbing his eyes with both his hands. He gave me an odd glare to avoid the light of the outside glow, but dismissed it quick enough.

"'eard ya…I got work anyhow…" He yawned.

Closing the curtains I scuffled into the kitchen and turned on the light, "Coffee?" I asked Soda.

"Yeah…that shit will get me through my shower at least." I understood exactly what he meant.

"Soda." I stopped him.

He turned my way, "Wha?"

"Maybe you should just stay home today. It was a hard, long night, and…" I shrugged, "It might be good for us to get more sleep and both be home with him today."

"Nah, s'okay. Bobby took the week off, and me and Steve are both pulling all day shifts since Frank has been real sick. I cant get it off. I'll be fine, jus make the coffee." He scuffed into the bathroom and shut the door.

The bags under Sodas eyes worried me, but I shook it off and went back to pick up the phone.

"Want some eggs?" I asked the more than distant Pony sitting in my dining room chair.

He shrugged his shoulders, not moving more than that or caring to acknowledge that I was staring at the back of his dark hair.

"I'll take that as a yes? You get the usual unless you speak up." I tried. He didn't.

Walking back into the kitchen, I wondered what it was I was going to do with him. We had been up an hour, well, he had, and in that time not a word had been said out of his mouth. He wouldn't even make any eye contact with me. Was he really that mad? I supposed it didn't matter at the time and started cooking up the eggs.

The door opened and slammed hard against the snow chilled wind that was running hard around the corners of the houses on our block.

"Who's here?" I called out. The last thing I had expected that morning was a visitor, not with the weather outside right then at least.

"Just me…" It was Soda, and he didn't seem in the best mood. I stepped from the kitchen as the eggs cooked, and poked my head around to the front door. Soda was sitting tearing his boots off along with a coat.

"You're home early. I thought you worked till three. It's not even noon yet." I wasn't mad, but it was a little odd for him to be home early. Soda loved his work so much that he was likely to work over for free instead of leaving as soon as he could.

"Yeah, well, the boss decided to shut down early. No one is out there anyway, just kids playing around. No one to get business off of." He finally stood up, striped down to only his pants, which were soaking wet and surely cold. Then he walked past me, "Im taking a shower." He called back. Couldn't blame him there.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, the eggs were nearly burnt, but luckily edible enough. I dished them onto a plate and set them in front of Pony with a glass of chocolate milk and a piece of perfect toast.

"Eat up, kid. The doctor said you need to eat with that pill I'm going to give you."

Pony stared at the food, then picked the toast up and took the smallest bite I had seen him take since he was six years old. I shook my head, still behind him.

"Pony…" my tone wasn't angry, and I was surprised it didn't convey my boiling feelings, but I was happy also. I knew the last thing that I needed to do then was lose my patience, but I was wearing thin. I still didn't even know what had happened to Pony's hand, or why he had hurt himself, and it ate at me like a wood tick. I just hoped I could keep the reinforcements in place long enough.

At my little insistence, Pony stuffed the entire piece of toast in his mouth. Then he pushed his chair back hard into me, stood up and stalked out of the kitchen.

I stood bewildered and wondering what I had done. The line to cross was far past saying his name in a bored tone…right? Picking up the plate, I stuffed some eggs in my mouth and walked back into the kitchen. What a waste of time, I thought. Then again, this whole day seemed to be geared for that anyhow.

"Why's Pony so upset? He wont even talk to me. Went into the bathroom as soon as I started asking him questions." Soda was leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.

"Dunno. He hasn't talked all morning, refused to eat, and left when I said his name." I handed the still mostly full plate of eggs to Soda, "Not your favorite, but eat up." Then I rummaged around for some jelly and took it out to Soda.

Pony's POV

I sat in the bathroom, wondering how I could get out of the hell I found myself in. It hadn't left, no, it had been there too long. Was I not allowed to break? I couldn't tell anyone, but I couldn't break. I had to eat, and I had to sleep; I had to be this normal person, but I wasn't.

I sighed, looking down at my bandaged hand. It sure hurt, still did. But the pain was good. Even as it got worse and coursed up my arm, even as I wished it away; the pain was keeping me there. It would be so easy to just take the medicine that they had given me for pain, but I couldn't face the thought of being so weak as to do that. I deserved this pain, and I wanted it.

I had broken, and that was bad. This was my punishment, I thought. I coudn't even face Darry, and of course he didn't understand. I couldn't explain this, and that's what he wanted. Not even Soda looked at me the same. I could see the change behind his eyes, in his half-hearted grin.

Now I was being punished, but the punishment, as bad as it seemed, I knew was not enough. I had caused too many things to get off with this little. And now I had gone and broke.

Soda's POV

It had been two hours since I had eaten Pony's eggs, and I hadn't seen him since. Darry had tried to give him some medication for pain, but he refused, started throwing things and slammed the door in Darrys face once he was in the hallway. If I hadn't been so worried over his behavior, I might have found it humerous, but this wasn't.

The last few weeks had presented Pony as bad to worse. First he started acting weird, then we got calls from the school for odd behavior, and then calls from a counselor at school who was very concerned about his well being. Luckily, we had avoided Social services so far, but it was looking more and more bleak.

Then things came home. Darry started dating more just recently, when things got serious with Cory, so he wasn't home much between that and work, and when he was he was in lala land over the lady. And well…Pony and I were kinda left to fend for ourselves. The gang was over a lot, and we just had fun. But soon Pony started to withdraw. He didn't do things, or laugh or smile or anything. Like a switch had been turned and he lost his light.

Sure, I was worried, and Darry and I talked about it. He tried to be home more, and has been, we worked with the school and tried to talk to Pony. We even thought things were going better. But Pony got the best of us yesterday. Something went haywire in his brain, and a spark flew him off the hook.

"Soda?" I looked up to see Darry staring at me from his armchair.

"Wha-Yeah?" I stammered.

He grinned slightly, "What are you doing?"

I looked around. The TV was off, there was nothing in my hands, the window curtains were down, and I was just sitting. What was I doing?

"Ummm…thinking?"

Darry shook his head slightly, "Don't think too much, it gets dangerous. And it could kill the likes of you."

He was trying to make a joke, so I smiled and went along with it. Of course the underlying meaning hurt too much to not pretend it was only a joke.

I chuckled, "Well, I better start taking your advice then. But if I ever grew up, you might die of boredom."

"More like bask in it" Darry mumbled as the door shot open letting the screaming wind and snow shock us out of our playful banter.

"Don't you love the snow!" Two-Bit walked in, looking as if he had rolled all the way here. He was soaked and still had clumps of frozen snow all over his less than winter ready clothing and body.

I chuckled slightly at his antics. Only Two-Bit would do such a thing, although in my more crazy moments I will admit to having joined him, and will likely another time to come. Darry stared at Two-Bit, seemingly astounded at a site he sees annually, if not more, but still doesn't understand.

Every year when Two-Bit saw snow he would do something equally crazy, but different in manner. He did everything from attaching a sled to a car, and "sledding" behind the speeding machine, to making a giant snowman that took half a day and the whole gang of grumbling guys, to snowball tournaments with the neighbors, building an igloo and sleeping in it a night, and white washing himself; which seemed to be the case this time.

I answered Two-Bits question, as he stood in the doorway, the door still flung wide open, and him smiling like an eight year old school boy. "Sure I do," I smiled good naturedly, "Now, will you close the door yet?"

Darry got up before Two-Bit had the chance to shut it, and slmmed it closed, shutting out the wind.

"Go take a warm shower before you catch pneumonia, Keith." Darry pushed him toward the bathroom and went to get a towel from the linen closet. The floor by the door was soaked.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now to Reviews!

Keira: Yeah, yeah. I will finish it…if people start reviewing damn it. Oh well. I'm on my way. Hope you like this one too.

NittanyLizard: I didn't want you to cry! But I'm glad that it touched you. I've had enough of my own experiences there too. Not fun. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I am hoping that this fiction opens some eyes on the subject. Sometimes going through it before understanding it causes more problems than we know. Hope you enjoyed this filler chapter! And thanks for the support.

Tensleep: Hope this chapter ws worth the wait too. All of them require a good wait, huh? Well, I don't know that there will be foreshadowing…considering that I don't recall what that line was…Ill have to check for you! lol. Well, have a GREAT day! Hope you enjoyed!

Well, that's it till next time. Have fun.


	5. White Out

**_Authors Comments: _**Okay people. This chapter may be very confusing. Especially since it has nothing to do with last chapter. Don't worry, it will come full circle, just not right now. WARNING: this chapter is pure depression, mostly because this is really how a depressed person thinks, and trust me, I know. However, I hope you still get something out of it. The ending may be even more confusing, once again, it jumps around a lot, but its supposed to. So, I hope you can get through it…if not, I will revise it and re-post…just let me know. This is kind of an experimental thing. Enjoy!

**_Dedication:_** To Taurie. Thanks for your help and encouragement babe. You know I need it at times. :). You are awesome!

Review Thanks at end…as usual.

Chapter 4 

Ponys'POV

Icy eyes bored into me like a tunnel being blasted with too much TNT. I wondered when he would get bored of staring at me intently. Apparently he was trained to stare when he went to school. Just like high school students were trained to sleep, or office workers were trained to eat all day.

While he stared I sat, thinking, torturing myself with anything possible. Contorting my hand in shapes I never imagined it could go without breaking and letting the pain sear my thoughts. Pain I had found was my only friend, it was the only thing that could now succeed at occupying my mind, for it was the only thing powerful enough to sear my inner eyes of hate and sorrow.

"Ponyboy, what brought you here?" His monotone voice sifted through my pain, far off and easy to ignore, but there.

I bit my tongue hard, hoping to soon draw a blood that would seep down my throat and make it raw to anything but pain. The longer I clamped down and the more it hurt, the more I was sure that nothing would slip with this fat bulge of a human before me. I didnt need what he was told to give me, and I wouldn't break. Soon they would find that me being here was worse than not.

I bent my hand back harder as the man behind his Cherry desk with brass paperweights went on about some cycle that our minds supposedly endure. He was droning on, not paying attention to what went on below the edge of his nameplate and out of his site. The more he droned, the more I wanted to do nothing more than drown him out. I found myself bending harder, tears coming to my eyes, until it seeped. The stitches that had been there for three weeks now tore my skin, blood oozing through the bandage. I didn't stop though, it wasn't enough, his voice wasn't yet gone. It wasn't until I heard a snap and had to bend over my hand that his voice stopped, and it wasn't till then that I realized that I truly was crazy.

---

The effect of the "counseling" incident must have been the same on the staff as it was on me. They knew for sure that I was meant to be there, if I could pull a stunt like that in front of the Dr. that was supposed to be helping me, I was surely insane. It didn't bother me that they knew, at least now they had a reason to treat me the way they did. Always giving me wary looks, the staff never left me alone, they checked all around my room every morning for something, anything I had altered to use as a weapon. They wouldn't let me put my hands below the table anymore, and they did weekly exams on me to make sure I wasn't mutilating myself with the tools they couldn't take away, like fingers.

"Mr. Curtis, you have a visitor." The orderly walked into my room for the fifth time in a half hour.

I was surprised, to have a visitor, that is. They never let me see anyone, said I was too bad off, I supposed. What had changed their minds after session and session of blank stares on my part, I knew not.

I looked at the orderly blankly after staring at the ground a minute.

"They will be here in a minute. Just sit tight."

I wondered where she thought I might go anyhow. They locked me in this room of all white on white, and told me to stay put every time they saw me. It's not like I had anything to pick the lock with, and really, I didn't care. At home I locked myself in the room and stared at the ceiling for hours, so this just made that practice easier.

It wasn't long before the door was rattling with a key in it. I again wondered vaguely who would care to see me, but it didn't matter, someone did, and that meant something. I looked down to the ground, surveying my feet with mock care. Of course there was little to see there and nothing to pay attention to, but something inside told me I was scared.

"You can take a seat there. Just talk to him. He doesn't talk much, but he seems to like –"

"Yeah, we know." A deep voice said it. I was familiar with that voice. Much more so than any I had heard in the last weeks. In fact, it was that voice that had told me I was being sent here.

A chair pulled up, close enough that I could see the legs of it, the boots, the worn blue jeans, and another pair of greased up tennies a few feet away, no chair behind them.

"Pone…how are you, Bud?"

Swallowing hard against the confusion in my twisting brain, I slowly let my head look up and make sure I wasn't dreaming it all. A welcome grin, however small, greeted my reaction.

"You look better." It was a lie, but a well placed one. Even if I wasn't allowed mirrors and glass and that, I knew. Through the bars you could see a broken reflection of yourself…by looking around you could see a reflection of yourself. No one here looked good, ever.

I wrung my hands mechanically, not knowing what else to do. They were here to see me, but they sent me here, they didn't care, did they? Of course the doctors said they did, but the doctors never know anything. It could all be a lie, and I wouldn't know.

Another chair was pulled up, and a second later, Soda sat, wrapping his legs around the legs like a five year old does on his first nerve wracking day of kindergarten – if only I could go back to that – then again, maybe I had already digressed to that anyhow.

"Hey little buddy." Darry spoke. His voice was unusually soft, nearly timid , again with the kid stuff.

The door opened again, a white coat flashing by me, a chart banging on a metal table at my back, "Aren't you going to say Hi to them Ponyboy?" Dr. Ratner asked. He scribbled on his paper, a signature, a diagnosis, a note; a scribble. That's all doctors did, they went to school to learn to scribble, then to learn to lie in sincerity. Two-bit would be a perfect doctor if he could stop drinking and laughing.

"You gotta talk sometime, man." Soda piped up. I almost wanted to tell him that I didn't have to do anything if I didn't want to, and it wouldn't matter anyway, but it wasn't worth my efforts. I was never listened to, so I stopped talking, it was that simple.

"Pony, I brought your family here because I think you need interaction with the people close in your life. Wouldn't you agree? Don't you miss them?"

I really hated his question asking, but what irked me even more was that he thought the more questions he asked, the more likely it was I may answer one, when really, the probability was going down with each new sentence out of his mouth.

A hand landed on my leg, making me jump before relaxing, "Are you still mad?" Darry asked me, again in that childish tone.

I shook my head. That was one thing I couldn't deny Darry, a straight answer. No, I was never mad at him, and he deserved to know that. I had only been mad at one person. And guess who the lucky winner is? Me.

"Then why won't you talk?" Soda asked. He was anxious, the quiet did that to him.

I receded back into my hole again, knowing I had nothing left to say. They would leave soon, after the doctor decided I wasn't fit to see them. Then time would pass, and I wouldn't see them again. They would go on with their lives before I made it out of these barred walls and fake mirrors.

They took away my smokes a long time before, but being out in the air made me crave them more than ever. Before things had gone to hell, I would sit out on the porch in the morning and smoke in the dawning sun. Those days would be forever gone, at least until they figured out that I wasn't going to talk, and that was that.

"Time for your appointment." A warden came from behind me, sitting on the bench where I was.

I should have known they would set an appointment right after I got clamed down a little. Darry must have told them how much I liked being out. Damn him.

At the insistence of an inhumane person, I shuffled up to the office of my "therapist". He never did much for me. It wasn't his business how I felt, or why. He would never be bale to understand what happened to me, however simple it was: I'm not gold, I'm not green, and I'm sure as hell not gold turning to an ugly brown like him.

He wasn't in his office when the warden sat me down in his leather chair under a soft lamp and footstool. I remembered the first day, him telling me that he liked us to be comfortable. I thought, "My ass, you do", and I still feel that way.

"Good Morning, Ponyboy. How are we doing?" The doctor walked in five minutes after I sat down.

Avoiding his gaze, I noticed all his funny gadgets and boring books. He didn't have so much as a fiction in the office, and I would bet his family had a very hard time buying him things for fathers day by now. Shelves were overflowing with brain puzzles, toys with no meaning, and visual cues of interest.

"Did you enjoy your time outside? I thought you would feel better after that." He sat behind his oversized cherry wood desk and pulled a pen and pad out of a cubby beside him.

I knew he was just trying me out, to see if maybe I would open up today. Every session since the time my brothers had come in a week or however long ago, he had been telling me how much progress I was making. The truth was he was trying to tell himself that and he was full of shit, but I would let him think what he wanted.

"Hmmm. Okay, we'll do this your way then." A drawer was opened and he pulled out some pictures. "I want to talk about life before this year, and what's changed."

Quickly, I averted my eyes staring down at my white shoes, wishing he wouldn't bring all that up. Long ago I had blocked it all out, thinking that the pain might lessen if I forgot I ever had anything, and to an extent it had half worked.

"You look a lot like your mother, Pony. She was beautiful."

"Don't talk about them!" I stood up screaming at him, "You have no right, you fucker!"

Soon, I had crossed the desk and shot a blow harder than I intended, then two, then three, and then I stopped. Breathing hard, tears came to my eyes. I backed to the corner, feeling like a trapped cat, I felt like Bob must have that night, or Johnny, or both.

------

The water was all over my shivering body, pounding in places I didn't know, far off yelling, cold. But nothing mattered. They should have killed me that night. The fates were wrong. Johnny should be in this family, Dally should, maybe even Bob should have lived a different life. All I knew for sure was that I had lived the wrong one – I deserved to be dead in a tragic accident, or a murder. My life would have been better spent saving someone who begged to see more on his deathbed.

------

I pulled on my tie, twisting it round for the hundredth time that day. The mirror seemed to move to make the tie look skewed. My blonde hair needed to be brown again, Johnny would hate to see me like this for his last time. I didn't like the feel of that black suit. Darry bought us all knew ones on the pretense that the others didn't fit and we had three funerals to attend just that week. One had been missed on our part, but Darry insisted we go to the grave in suits and pay respects to the teen killed in our park. I just wanted to miss them all.

"Pony, lets go! You don't want to miss it, buddy." Darry called back.

I straightened the crinkled tie and pulled the jacket off our bed, _Gone With The Wind _marked at Johnny's favorite part with a letter from me, all in my hand.

-----

Two-Bit swayed to the words of Tim Shepard, running an appraising thumb over his black handled switch and swigging at his liquor at three second intervals.

Steve leaned on a tree off in the distance, smoking cigarette after cigarette, box after box. His hands were shaking, even from here, as he fiddled with the lighter in his left hand.

Darry, Soda, and I stood in a line, our suits standing out against the greaser dress of every gang on this side. Soda stared at the ground, Darry clenched his jaw, and I just gazed up at the falling leaves.

Two-Bit stepped up in the middle of Tim, threw in his switch and staggered off, taking Steve's arm and dragging him away. Soda threw some cards into the hole - Dal's lucky ones, and I found a tree to sit next to. Tim walked off, not a word in either direction once he was done, and that was it.

Darry wanted me to go home, to eat, to sleep, but I couldn't. I sat until he left, made sure it was clear, and did my thing before going home that night.

"Stay gold, Dal. Johnny wanted that…and I cant do it."

Okay, Review thanks then.

NittanyLizard: Thanks and Thanks and Thanks. I don't know what else to say really. Depression has a way of conflicting a family…that's possibly the hardest aspect of it. Anyway, I appreciate your support. Sorry its been so long. I just felt that I needed to maybe update something… I haven't been so great with that lately. Good luck with everything btw! See ya!

allaboutelephants22: Thanks, I really appreciate the support. Some hate the idea of depression, but I think its real, so I figured to write about it. Hope this update didn't take TOO long…I really just have to wait for the inspiration on stories like this. Hope you enjoy it!

Myhubbyisob: Well, this aint soon, but its something, right? You'll have to wait and see where Pony ends up goin…cuz, that just works itself out. Enjoy!

Keira: Well, you've only read part of this, IF ANY. I don't really recall if you read the first part, but over the days you left, I did a lot, so there. I think Taurie read more than you have…but I dunno. Anyway, hope you liked it.

Tensleep: I think I have tooo much fun when inspiration hits…but hey, its all good, right? Well, this has taken me FOREVER…but I figured you might like an update, and others too…and ive been in the mood. Maybe with this laptop I will get more done, I wont be downstairs in the freezing cold or fighting for a computer. HAHA. Thanks for your review and support. Hope you have a great holiday! Talk to you soon, I hope.

Turner: Thanks! I hope you enjoy this chapter also. Sorry its not sooner…

Hahukum Konn: Hehehe, well, on most stories I try to not have too many cliffies, but this is the kind of story that constitutes a lot of those. And…well, it makes it fun for me…

Tsuppi: Yeah, Darry is the adult, he has to say Keith at times, right? Thanks for your review and support. Hope you enjoyed!


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